The Ashes
by theCalliope
Summary: Typical tragedy angst, goes through the movie and beyond. Spock/Uhura.
1. Chapter 1

"Of course you're real," Nyota laughed, tilting her head back with a bit of a twisted smile.

It was the third time that Spock had sat her down and explained to her that he could never be a real boyfriend. He was too stiff. Restrained. Unemotional. He could never give her the things she wanted in a man.

"I hate it when you talk like this," she replied, frowning slightly, with a hint of worry, "Can't you see I like you as you are?"

Spock's mind fumbled for an argument as she leaned forward and pinched his ears. He trembled slightly.

"See, _real_," she mocked, as she leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed back hungrily. Stiffly. Awkwardly. His body stayed rigid. His arms stayed glued at his sides.

For months, it had been like this. She always seemed to think that she could change him.

"You're starting to warm up," she'd protested the first time he'd brought it up, the first time he'd said out loud the things he'd been thinking since the beginning. That he might never make it to where she was hoping. That he might never be able to show her the affection she wanted.

"I can tell you like me," she'd whispered in his ear defiantly, and it was true. He did like her, he thought about her all the time. But those were thoughts, and then there was reality, and whenever he tried to bridge the gap and say something to her, he would freeze or lose the words and then she would be staring at him again with her hand held against his cheek.

But he never could convince her to give up. She always refused to accept his assertion and move on.

She was still there when they boarded the _Enterprise_. The day he refused to admit, even to himself, that the distress call from Vulcan already made him anxious. On any other day, he would have never given in to her insistence, but his nerves were already frayed. It was easiest not to argue.

His calm demeanour was a façade as they made the short trip to Vulcan. Terrible speculation filled his mind. What could have possibly happened to cause Vulcan command to send a priority 1 distress signal? He tried to convince himself that the most likely scenario was a malfunction of the distress beam. But if that was the case, why didn't they correct the error over other channels? He thought that it was probably a natural disaster, but he didn't entirely dismiss the possibility of a terrorist incident. It was something that you had to grow up Vulcan to know, that the prejudice went both ways. That there were a lot of people out there that hated Vulcans.

The destroyed fleet confirmed his suspicions. At first he tried to convince himself that it could have been a sudden ion storm, or something similar, but any natural occurrence would have carried off the debris. He wasn't surprised when they heard from Nero.

And then it was into Starfleet mode. Making plans. Beaming to the ground. Running up to rescue the elders without wavering. Watching the pillars fall and crush people he known since childhood to their deaths. Trying to save his mother and his culture, his mother on one hand and his culture on the other. Seeing the ground crumble and his mother falling, just out of reach, just so he couldn't save her.

And then waking up in the transporter bay, feeling as if the whole thing could have been a dream. Except that his father and his colleagues surrounded him. Except that Vulcan was no longer in the sky. For a moment, he stood contemplating. Contemplating the magnitude of the destruction. Contemplating his next move.

There was no time for grief. Pike had left him in charge, he had to decide that to do next. It wasn't enough to have to found the fleet obliterated, watched his mother fall to her death, see his planet destroyed, he was also somehow responsible for preventing future destruction. He stood up, enraged by the injustice of it all.

He heard Nyota's footsteps follow him into the turbolift.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered. Tears ran down her face. Was she all he had left, beside this ship and this epic responsibility? No, there was still his father. He felt her arms close around him and her lips touch his. It was too little comfort for too much destruction.

"What do you need?" she breathed, "Tell me, tell me."

An arm closed around her. He wanted to tell her that he needed her now, more than anything, but then there was the future and the ship, and the sickening feeling at the bottom of his stomach that still prevented him from saying anything.

"I need …" his voice creaked, fell off in midair, "Everyone to keep performing admirably."

As he spoke, the look on her face, with all the sadness and impatience and frustration that she'd built up was just one more thing that scathed his mind. He walked out of the turbolift without looking back.

The hours passed. The future started to unfold. He ordered to crew to go back and regroup. He abandoned Kirk on a desolate planet. He supressed his anger, and then it grew, and then he was on the bridge, pounding Kirk, letting his fist hit his jaw again and again and again.

He stumbled away, ashamed that he had lost control, ashamed that he had added more violence to a day that would already go down as one of the most horrific in history.

When he got down to his quarters, he found Nyota waiting. She was crying. He let her in, and for the first time, reflexively, he put his arms around her without thinking. And it was strange, comforting her after his planet had been destroyed, but he could tell that she was just overwhelmed by everything that had happened. When she stopped crying, she asked in a low voice,

"Are you alright?"

He didn't answer. What was there to say? He sat down on the sofa and slumped forwards, putting his face in his hands.

She sat down next to him and put her arms around him. They stayed seated like that for hours. They didn't talk. They didn't sleep. They just sat and stared into space, as it all started to unfold. As what had happened really started to sink into their minds.

Spock didn't cry. Vulcans didn't cry. It was more like a low, scratchy howl, emanating from the bottom of the throat. At first, Nyota looked at him with worry, as if she thought that he might be choking, but the she understood.

"It's okay Spock," she whispered, in a statement that was completely untrue and held onto him harder, putting her cheek against his. They sat there until Spock felt slightly more collected, and they felt the ship shake.

"I have to go do something about that," Spock spoke in what could have been a dark, dark joke. She nodded and followed him up to the bridge.

Kirk told Spock they were hurtling towards to Earth, and slowly, he outlined his plan. It seemed like moments later they were in the transporter bay, waiting to beam to the _Narada_.

He was in Starfleet mode again, knowing it was most likely he would die, but not resisting, not really thinking about it. But Nyota was, and when he saw her lurking outside the say, he motioned her over. He had to say goodbye, but he couldn't get the words out, he couldn't do anything but put his arms around her and lean in for an awkward kiss.

And then she pulled away, and then they were being dematerialized, and then they were on the _Narada,_ walking towards the _Jellyfish_. And then it dawned on him. He was about to die, and Nyota had been so kind and so loving, and he had been too embarrassed, too frightened to tell her how he really felt.

"In the event that I am unsuccessful," he murmured, with a deep breath, to Kirk, "Please tell Lieutenant Uhura,"

But Kirk wouldn't have any of it, and cut him off,

"It'll work!"

And then Spock's mind cut out, and then he was back in Starfleet mode, flying the Jelly fish with razor sharp precision, carrying out his mission. And everything went according to Kirk's prediction. In what seemed like minutes, he was back in the transported bay, with no damage done except for a couple of broken ribs and a few bad bruises.

They were dead in the water, waiting for Starfleet to tow them, when Spock barged into Nyota's room. Steeped in adrenaline, high on painkillers, he grabbed her in his arms and whispered things he knew he never would be able to say again.

At first she was alarmed, but she fell back when she saw his sincerity.

"I was almost killed," he intoned, as if it explained everything.

As he kissed her, he told her how he loved her, how she made him feel better about everything. With tears in her eyes, she clung to him. They made beautiful love.

He fell asleep holding her, impassioned, in his arms, but when he woke up, the world had fallen back in place. His ribs were throbbing, and the fear and shame was bearing down on him, and his hand trembled as he stroked her hair.

When she woke up, she was afraid too. Somehow she had known it wouldn't last.

"Are you okay?" she asked, that vague, meaningless question. Her eyes were big and sad, like she didn't want it to be over. Spock decided he didn't want it to be over either.

"Kiss me," he whispered, and her eyes widened, and she complied.

"More," he said when she pulled away, and she leaned in again, not pulling away this time.

Soon, her hands were sliding across his body. It wasn't the way it had been before, but it was something.

"I have two broken ribs, remember," he tried to excuse his stiffness, and she just smiled, and pinched his ears and moved her hands back below the blanket.

**_A/N: I wanted to write a short story, but it turned out to be extremely long, so I decided to split it. Two or three more chapters, I'm not sure how I will split the rest._**

**_A/N2: Yes, I am totally procrastinating on NaNoWriMo_**


	2. Chapter 2

After the destruction of Vulcan, it was a different world. Fear was rampant. Nerves were frayed. Transmissions and songs and store windows carried the message to "stay calm and carry on", but no one did. They panicked.

It was a different universe. The loss of Vulcan had left the Federation with big shoes to fill. They went empty. No one could bring two sides of a debate to an agreement like the Vulcans. No one trusted humans the way they had trusted the Vulcans. No one trusted anyone.

The old allegations that the Federation put human interests first came back with a vengeance. Planets started threatening to leave. They started demanding special representation. And while the Federation was tied up with internal issues, the Klingons and the Romulans did what they always did during times of uncertainty. They reinforced their borders. They annexed. They sent masses of refugees hurrying toward the Federation.

It was a different _Enterprise_. The enthusiasm and excitement of exploring the universe was lost. It was replaced by a grim sense of reality. That they alone, of their classmates had survived the Academy. That they had already seen more destruction than most people saw in their lifetimes. That the future was vast and dangerous and unknowable.

For Spock, the first few days back on the Enterprise were the worst. Being on the ship brought back all the memories. The first time Spock stepped into the transporter bay, he thought having been beamed back and realizing that his mother had fallen. Once, on the bridge, he thought he saw Nero's face on the Comm. before realizing that it was another Romulan and shuddered.

"It's okay," Nyota whispered into his ear in her quarters after their shift. She always seemed to notice when something bothered him. She brushed one hand though his hair, and kissed him, and it distracted him, made him feel better. And he hated that it made him feel better, that there had been, there still was so much suffering, and that she was all it took to temporarily relieve him of it.

But he was in love with her. It was something that he couldn't deny, not after what had happened on the _Narada_, not after what had happened afterwards. And when he was with her, the world dissolved. He hated that when he was with her, he found it hard to care about anything else. And he hated how after everything that happened, he thought that he might finally be happy.

Sometimes, Spock would try to tell Nyota how he felt, but he couldn't. His throat went dry. His voice creaked. In frustration, he tried to show her in other ways. He wrote her notes that sounded dry and scattered and strange even when he read them back to himself. He showed up at her door with gifts.

"You don't have to do these things, you know" Nyota would always say, looking at him sadly. And sometimes, he thought she might understand. How the candle was burning the candle from both ends, on one side with the shame of having fallen prey to his emotions, and on the other, the shame of being so bad at it.

Some days, he woke up wanting to purge himself of all of it. He would awake with a start, suddenly realizing that he was doing something terribly wrong, that he had forsaken everything be believed in, that he had to correct himself. It would be a few minutes before Spock reminded himself that he had already thought about this, and decided to go against the Vulcan way, and that just because you went against one thing you believed in, it didn't mean you had to go against everything. Spock began to understand his father, remembering how he would sometimes get into moods and withdraw from the family for days at a time. Spock had always known that going against your beliefs was a hard decision to make, but now he knew it was also hard on a day to day level.

And beside that was the fear that no matter what he did, it wouldn't be enough. Regardless of what Nyota said, the fear always lingered. People were already wondering what she saw in him. Through his extra-sensitive he could hear people speculating at distant tables in the mess hall. Maybe his family was rich. Or he was different in private. Or he was an excellent lover. Or maybe there were things that you could just never figure out.

Spock mentioned this in quiet tones, but Nyota just laughed,

"Well, I don't understand why they all fawn over Kirk!"

And then she'd gone quiet, because they usually tried not to talk about the bridge when they were together. For a while, Spock managed to convince himself that she was right, and was worrying about nothing, until one night his fears culminated and she didn't want to see him.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy, I'm just not up to seeing you," she whispered when he came to the door. There were bags under her eyes and she looked distraught.

The next night she wasn't there, and for the rest of the week, he only saw her on the bridge, and a couple of times in the distance. She seemed to be trying to avoid him.

Spock slept fitfully that week. On one hand, he had been expecting this, but on the other hand it was all so unexpected. He didn't know what he was going to do without Nyota. It was difficult to even think about.

It was a few days before his sadness turned to rage. He'd asked her, and Nyota had told him that he had nothing to worry about so many times. How could she have lied to him? How could she have just abandoned him without saying anything?

"How could you do this?" he demanded, barging into her quarters, more harshly than he intended.

She stared up at him slowly, confused and bleary-eyed.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he went on, once it was clear that she wasn't going to answer.

She stared at him, her eyes blank, like glass before she lowered her head again, troubled and gazed into her lap.

"Spock," she whispered finally, "I'm pregnant."

It was a strange moment as her eyes moved across the room, looking for a sign of a reaction, which of course he didn't give. After a few seconds, Spock stepped towards her, and she stood up and scuttled into his arms.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, crying slightly, "I didn't mean to, I was so stupid!"

Spock held her more closely, letting the tears fall across his chest, stroking her hair gently.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she whispered finally, after her tears dried.

And she didn't. She agonized. One day she was going to keep the baby, and the next day she was going to get an abortion, and the next day she was going to put it up for adoption.

"What do you think?" she kept asking, but Spock didn't know what to say either. On one hand, they were supposed to be repopulating New Vulcan, and he thought he might like the idea of starting a family with Nyota. On the other hand, he felt ill-prepared, and what a world to bring a child into. And he thought it would get worse before it got better.

But one day, when he went to check on her, she wasn't shaky like she usually was. She was calm and collected.

"I've decided that I am going to keep the baby and move to a starbase," she announced as soon as he sat down. The finality in her voice made him believe her.

"You can come with me, or stay here, it's up to you," she said after a minute.

He looked at her in surprise, and answered without thinking,

"Of course I will come with you."

The pregnancy was making Nyota emotional. She started crying.

"Oh, Spock," she whimpered, putting her arms around him.

**_A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. Writer's block, I never thought it would happen to me and then it did :) _**


	3. Chapter 3

**NOTE: This is the chapter with the tragedy / angst in it. You have been warned.**

Spock started to worry. It was a slow, growing feeling that slithered up one arm, and then across his back, and then before he knew it, was coiled around his chest. There was so much to worry about. The impending future. His abilities as a parent. And then there were the practical matters. Where exactly were they going to go? What exactly were they going to do?

"I think we're in over our heads," Nyota murmured one evening. She was seated at her desk, trying to decipher a document entitled _Childcare Protocols for Children with Two Starfleet Parents_.

"Almost certainly," Spock answered dryly, and to his surprise, Nyota threw her head back and laughed.  
"I am so glad to have you," she chuckled, putting her arms around him and pressing her cheek to his chest.

And he held her, stroking her hair, wanting to tell her that despite his worries, he didn't wish that anything was different.

As time went on, Spock and Nyota began to adjust. They started making plans.

One day, he found her smiling in front of the computer.

"Look at this," she said, and he looked at the screen. There was a picture of a Starfleet facility.

"Starbase 5," Nyota said, and started flipping through pictures. First, there were the expected ones: vast gleaming corridors, high tech equipment, people in Starfleet uniforms looking busy. But then there were pictures of standard quarters, with a family looking happy sitting on the sofa, and then the mess hall, with a woman in the foreground sitting opposite a young boy, scolding him for pulling food off her tray.

The pictures ended, and Nyota flipped to the section on schools. It was mostly standard stuff, quotes from students, pictures of teachers explaining their educational philosophy, until they got to a classroom scene. There were a few human students, but mostly part-humans and races Spock couldn't even identify.

"I think that this is where we want to go," Nyota said with a smile.

Spock nodded. It seemed like a nice place, and if it was true to the pictures, their child wouldn't even stand out.

"Where is it?" he added after a second.

"Where Hubble Observation Post 3 used to be. They're turning it into a command center because it's quite well insulated from the Klingon and Romulan borders," Nyota spoke quickly, answering Spock's unspoken question.

"It seems ideal then," Spock stated, "If we can get an assignment."

Nyota grinned even deeper. She'd already taken the liberty of asking if they could get assignments, and had been told it wouldn't be a problem.

That night, Spock called his father. Sarek said he was pleased, although he wished they had decided to live somewhere closer to New Vulcan.

"What if you two need assistance?" he asked more than once. For a Vulcan, Spock was fairly young to be starting a family.

But overall, he was supportive. The destruction of Vulcan was making people do crazy things. Abandoning their lives. Making choices with the justification of 'we all die tomorrow'. Running off to pursue poorly-thought-out dreams. Starting a family was pretty mild, all considered.

Nyota's family was a different matter. They didn't like that she was pregnant. They didn't like Spock. They didn't like the idea of her giving up her career.

"You should send your daughter to live with us!" Spock heard her sister Naema saying. She was twenty years older than Nyota, almost like a second mother.

"But I want to know her growing up," Nyota argued.

"Then come home!" the sister wailed.

"I won't leave Spock," Nyota stated.

And Spock waited for Naema to say that he could come and live with them too, but of course she didn't.

Afterwards, Spock tried to talk to Nyota about it, but she brushed him off.

"Quite honestly," she said, "We have bigger things to worry about."

It was true. There seemed to be so much to prepare. Transfers to get in order. Paper work to ensure the baby's dual citizenship. Baby supplies to order and get delivered to their new quarters.

And their anxieties worsened.

"What if I don't know what I'm doing?" Nyota asked out loud over and over, echoing her sister's sentiments. She was the baby sibling herself. She had never so much as held a baby before.

And Spock started to worry that he would be like his father. Spock had always been so hard on him, and now he worried that he would never be as expressive, as loving a parent as Nyota. He thought of all the times as a child that he had run eagerly into his mother's arms and completely ignored his father. Was that what his life was going to be like?

Still, he loved Nyota, and thought that he was getting better at showing it and maybe those skills would transfer to the baby somehow. And somehow, being in love made their problems seem more surmountable.

"We will make it … because … of how we feel," Spock whispered shakily to her one night, when she'd broken down after the ship had taken shots for the third time in twenty-four hours. They'd stayed in bed because it had become such a common occurrence that the night shift had been authorized to fire back without waking command in most situations.

"Spock, I never knew you were a romantic," Nyota answered back, a slight bit of amusement showing beneath her fear.

And he knew it was a complete logical disconnect, thinking that being in love would somehow solve problems external to the relationship. But it was so easy to believe.

And in a way, Spock felt he had to believe in something. He had lost his planet, and had lost everything, and the fact that his life was changing in good ways as well as bad somehow gave it meaning. Sure, he was a situation that he had never expected to be in, but after all the destruction, it gave him focus. It gave him hope in spite of everything.

As time went on, and the baby started to move, Spock found himself becoming protective of Nyota. He lost his will to spend his nights anywhere but beside her. It started to bother him that she was still on duty. He asked Kirk more than once if he could keep her confined to the ship. Kirk usually brushed this off jovially.

"She can still pass the physical better than a lot of people," he joked once, referring to the fact that several crewmembers failed after coming back from the recent Christmas vacation.

But when they were preparing to take out a base on Astalt 3, Kirk finally snapped at him.

"You know what!" he spat, "I think we're all going to die!"

Kirk was in a bad mood. He'd been up all night talking to Starfleet command on the Comm.

"We're leaving behind only enough people to beam us up and get us out of her if things go sideways," he said more softly once he had calmed down, "Everybody else goes."

The crew lined up and Kirk yelled out,

"Make sure your phasers are in high power mode L before you beam down."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he heard this.

"High power mode L?" he asked Kirk as he walked by, "Does that mean we expect to encounter Romulans?"

Kirk stared at Spock. He looked about ten years older than he had when he'd boarded the Enterprise.

"Spock," he said with forced calm, "If I was cleared to tell you what is going on, I would, okay. I don't like keeping things from you. But right now, it is need-to-know."

And he paced back to the front without a word.

Two-by-two, they beamed down into formation. Spock was at the left side as they moved forward. Nyota was taking up the rear. Trying to force himself into Starfleet mode, Spock couldn't help but look back occasionally as they marched on.

Almost as soon as they started moving, shots were fired. Clearly Romulan weaponry. Spock ducked behind a tree and fired back. It seemed to be enough to scare off whoever was firing, and the air cleared. But then there were two short whistles and one long one in the distance. That was Kirk, whistling the code for 'assailant escaped'. They hadn't got whoever was shooting. And their communicators weren't functioning.

Worried, Spock looked back. Nyota had fallen behind. Intentionally, he stumbled slightly. Nothing noticeable, he could have just as easily tripped on the uneven ground. But it gave Nyota a chance to catch up, so that they were both at the back. She gave him a wary glare, as if she knew what he was up to. They marched forward.

Suddenly, they heard a screeching noise. There was something above them. Then they looked around, and the forest was on fire. Whoever had been shooting must have alerted the base. There was ghastly screaming, and the crew scattered. Many of them forgot their training and ran instead of dropping when their clothes caught fire.

Spock looked around for Nyota. Her hair was singed, but she wasn't burning. He grabbed her hand and ran. They ran until they were in a clearing that seemed too damp to burn.

Nyota was having trouble keeping up, and by the time they got to the clearing, she was breathing heavily. She sat down on a log to rest.

On edge, Spock looked around to see if anyone was coming. As he turned his back, a Romulan came out of the woods, threw Nyota down harshly and tried to take her phaser. Spock turned around and shot him.

He strained his eyes to see if anyone else, friend or foe was on their way, but he didn't see anyone. He turned back to Nyota.

"I think he broke my shoulder," she said, and he looked but didn't touch it. It was safer held in place by the cloth of her dress. Fumbling with his Comm., Spock tried to contact the ship, then the rest of the crew, but it was silent.

"I'm alright, I can wait for the ship," she whispered, but he knew she was lying. She kept holding her chest and gasping for breath intermittently.

"You should go on," she said after a minute, hunching forward.

Spock's mind reeled. He didn't want to leave her.

"I am unsure of how useful I would be without the crew and only limited knowledge of the purpose of the mission," he stated.

Nyota looked relieved when he said this. For a moment, she stammered, but then Spock interjected,

"Where does it hurt?"

And she motioned her shoulder, and then lower back, and then across her belly. She breathed heavily again, and then looked downwards.

"Spock," she whispered, "I think I'm going into labour."

He looked at her, alarmed. It was too soon. The baby might not make it. Not in the middle of a field. Not without medical attention. For a moment, he wondered if Nyota would still love him without the baby, and then was ashamed by the thought.

"Can I see?" he asked with false calm, and she sat up straight and let him see her skirt. It was drenched in crimson blood.

"I think you should lie down," he spoke, trying to hide that his heart was pounding. As he helped her down, there was another wave of blood that stained her skirt. It was heavier and brighter that what he remembered from this simulation at the Academy. She was bleeding out.

Trying to hide his sheer panic, Spock picked up his Comm. and tried to call for help. It stayed silent. Eventually, he put it down.

"Is there something wrong?" Nyota gasped.

"I just wish we had the help of trained professionals," he said back, not wanting her to go into shock. But he could tell that she knew he was lying. Her mouth was taut with the pain, and it was as if she knew it wasn't the right type of pain.

"Just stay calm," he whispered, not sure if he should tell her to push or not. From what he could recall from medical texts, it didn't matter.

Spock wished that she'd been brave. She hadn't.

"There's something horribly wrong, isn't there?" she'd cried out over and over and over. She alternately screamed and sobbed, and then slowly she went quiet. She began to get distant and confused.

"Are we done yet?" she asked once, blearily, leaning her head back and chuckling.

And slowly, the baby was born in all the wrong order, first the placenta, and then the feet and finally the head, accompanied by a sudden pouring of blood. Against all odds, the baby started to whimper.

"Look," Spock whispered, holding the baby up so that Nyota could see her, "Our baby."

Nyota gazed at her, confused, not really understanding.

Spock wished that he and Nyota'd had a heartfelt goodbye. They hadn't.

After staring at the baby for a minute, she breathed,

"Spock, I feel sick," and then turned her head and threw up blood across her shoulder. And then her eyes closed and her skin went dull and she didn't speak again.

Spock looked down at the baby. She was so tiny. Her crying was barely louder than his footsteps. It seemed so unbelievable that she was in his arms and Nyota was dead at his feet. He held her as she cried for what seemed like hours.

He had nothing to give her. There was water in a puddle from a recent rainfall, but it was filthy, and she was too small to fight off an infection.

Night fell, and after a minute's hesitation, Spock removed Nyota's dress. Shaking, he wrapped the baby in it. He still couldn't reach the ship. He wondered if he and the baby were also going to die on this planet. Defiantly, he rocked her.

The sun rose, and Spock could see Nyota's body again. Somehow, she seemed more dead than before, her face pale, her features sunken. He turned around so that he wouldn't have to face her. Three more hours passed, during which the baby became weaker and weaker, and then stopped crying altogether. Spock gave her some of the water out of the puddle and she started stirring.

As Spock started rocking her, there was a flash in the distance. He didn't know it at the time, but it was the base exploding. Kirk had destroyed it by sneaking in and reversing the polarity of a power converter after the rest of the crew on the ground had been killed. He had a talent for that sort of thing.

Spock never did find out what was inside the base. He never did find out why it was so important to destroy it.

"Two life signs, one weak," a voice came across the Comm. a few minutes later.

"Is that you Spock?" the voice continued. Before he could answer, he felt himself being beamed up into the transporter bay.

Kirk's mouth opened as he saw Spock materialize without his shirt, smeared in blood, carrying a baby wrapped in a dress.

"Where's Nyota?" Kirk asked.

"She died yesterday," Spock spoke steadily, leaving the transporter room and walking towards sickbay, "Her communicator is by her body if you wish to recover it."

"Spock, are you all right?" Kirk yelled running after him. Spock increased his pace so that Kirk couldn't catch up.


	4. Chapter 4

Spock walked into sickbay and put the baby onto the operating table. The medical crew moved with mechanical precision. Dr. McCoy scanned the baby with a tricorder while a nurse stepped forward and put breathing tubes in her nostrils. Meanwhile, another nurse hovered over the baby with a warming rod, starting with her torso and spiralling slowly outwards. The baby's limbs slowly started to jerk, and McCoy walked towards the nurse and said,

"That's enough," before scanning her with the tricorder again.

Spock watched in a daze until a nurse interrupted him, telling him that he needed to be examined.

"The fumes from the explosion could be harmful," she told him.

The fumes.

Spock followed her numbly into the clinic. Sitting down in one of the chairs, he gazed into the distance as the nurse scanned him, his eyes not focusing. What was he going to do, he wondered vaguely. His mind was jumbled and hazy, moving in all different directions. He knew what had happened, but it seemed surreal, like a dream. Only a day ago, they had been planning to be parents and Nyota had been alive. It didn't seem possible that things had changed so quickly. But then Spock focused his eyes, and saw her blood staining his shirt and started to shudder. As soon as the nurse pronounced him healthy, he shot to his feet and paced back to the operating room.

The medical crew seemed much calmer when he entered. One nurse was feeding the baby though a tube, while the other made a bed in an incubator. McCoy was wiping up the dirty footprints Spock had left as he'd walked in.

"She's doing pretty well, all considered," McCoy told Spock as soon as he saw him, "Got a bit of dehydration and hypothermia, going to want to keep an eye on her overnight, but after that you can take her home."

Home. Spock didn't know what that meant anymore. He stared down at the floor, avoiding McCoy.

"I was sorry to hear what happened to Nyota," McCoy went on, trying to recapture Spock's attention. His voice was high and shaky. A lot of his crew had died as well.

Spock said nothing. When the nurse was finished with the baby, he parked himself in front of the incubator and stared down at her. Her eyes were still closed, and several tubes protruded from her body. She seemed so small, but she was all he had left of Nyota. But she wasn't Nyota. Nyota was in a box in cargo bay 3, and he was left with their child alone. For hours, he stood over the incubator, this truth slowly seeping into his mind.

"Spock," a voice rang out eventually. It was Dr. McCoy.

"I think you should go get some sleep," he said, putting a hand on Spock's shoulder. The doctor sounded tired. Spock didn't budge.

"We need the operating room," he went on, "We're going to move her to the clinic, you can see her tomorrow."

Slowly, Spock shuffled out the door.

He paused at the door to his quarters. He hadn't been in them for months. Ever since he had found out that Nyota was pregnant, he had slept in quarters.

When he opened the door, he saw that a chair had been upended and hangers had fallen out of the closet. Reflexively, he returned them to their places. Looking around the room, it seemed so sparse. Not like Nyota's, which had been covered in pictures of family and friends and silly human things—a band from her hometown, schematics of winning race cars.

Spock sank into his sofa. It was all his fault. He should have fought harder with Kirk. He should have learned more about childbirth. He should have known what to do to save her. It was all coming back, trying to save his planet, trying to save his mother. But it was always too late, he always failed, and now, he didn't even have Nyota to comfort him, he'd failed her too. The night passed slowly, his mind alternating between images of his planet, his mother and Nyota.

Morning came, and Dr. McCoy arrived at the door with the baby in an incubator.

"Special delivery!" he said in a voice that tried to be jovial, but sounded weak.

After finding a spot for the incubator, McCoy explained to Spock the tubes and equipment that the baby was hooked up to. In sickbay, he had exaggerated her progress somewhat. She was quite premature and needed a lot of care. Spock nodded mechanically.

After Spock had repeated back McCoy's instructions to his satisfaction, he left wearily.

Spock looked down at the baby. She was so small.

Nyota had wanted to call their daughter Tiaga, followed by three middle names, but Spock decided he didn't want her encumbered by so many names in life. He called her Ma'Resh.

"Ma'Resh," he whispered as he took the top off the incubator, and ran two fingers stiffly down her back. Her eyes opened slightly.

The days passed, and Spock tried to distract himself with caring for Ma'Resh. Kirk had relieved him from duty on the bridge. There were tubes to keep clean, and reservoirs to keep full and bedding to be sterilized. And she was starting to drink a bit from a bottle and could handle a few minutes at a time out of the incubator. Still, she was mostly human, and an infant, so she slept a lot more than Spock needed to. The days and nights were full of empty hours in which Spock couldn't stop thinking about Nyota, wondering what she would be doing if she was still alive, wondering how he would ever get by without her, blaming himself for everything.

Kirk came to visit a few days later.

"How you holding up?" he asked gently. Spock let a vacant stare be his response.

Kirk moved over to the incubator, and his mouth opened.

"Woah," he said, "Maybe you could get McCoy to accelerate her growth or something."

And the despite everything, Kirk's uncouthness somehow made Spock feel slightly better.

"McCoy says she will catch up," Spock stated slowly. Spock and Kirk looked at each other for a moment.

"I don't want to pressure you," Kirk went on, "But do you know where you're planning on going after this?"

Spock shook his head.

"Just if you're thinking of going to New Vulcan, it would make sense for you to stay on Earth once we get there."

So many crew members had died on the last mission that they were going back for funerals and to get replacements.

Spock didn't speak. He didn't want to go to New Vulcan. He thought of his childhood, and he didn't think he could do it. It wasn't what he wanted for Ma'Resh.

"Otherwise," Kirk went on, sensing his reaction, "We can drop you at the hub on Starbase 1 on the way out."

"I will think about it," Spock answered, and Kirk gave him a sympathetic pat on the back and left.

But Spock didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to leave the ship. He hadn't even called his father to tell him what had happened. Every time he thought about it, it made him sick.

He didn't want to go to Starbase 5. Not without Nyota. It had been their thing, her idea. And he didn't think he could stand being around happy families, all the people for who things had gone as expected.

And Spock worried about Ma'Resh. He wondered if he could care for her. He knew he could take care of her physical needs, but what about her emotional ones. He tried to show her affection, but he was stiff and clumsy. He'd tried to kiss her on the forehead once, and she'd started flailing due to the cold by the time he'd managed to lean his head forward.

Eventually, the ship reached Earth, and the crew beamed down to Nyota's funeral. Her family had refused Starfleet honours, wanting to bury her according to their own traditions. There must have been four hundred people in attendance, most of them extended family, looking vaguely like her.

Ma'Resh had graduated from the incubator, so Spock decided to take her. She was still too small for the backpack that Nyota's great aunt had sent as a gift months ago, so Spock held her in a bundle in his arms.

"Oh, let me take her," Nyota's sister Naema said when she saw Spock at the gates, "The family wants to meet her, and then she won't bother you while you're paying your respects."

Reluctantly, Spock handed her over, and opened up the bag he was carrying to explain the medications and special formula Dr. McCoy had given him. She listened carefully, and then took the bag with a bit of a jerk, and a dark look, as if she too blamed Spock for Nyota's death.

Nyota's family hadn't involved Spock in the funeral, so he sat with the rest of the Starfleet officers. It was hard to listen as they all spoke about her, like someone from the past, who was no longer living. He started to tremble as they carried her body in.

She was laid out beautifully, in a silk dress, surrounded by flowers. A choir sang songs about how she was in a better place.

And then it was clear, in way it hadn't been before, that she was gone. She was part of the past. She had been his whole world and she was gone now.

They opened up the floor, and Spock stumbled up to the stage. He hadn't planned to talk. It had seemed illogical, a strange human custom that just made everyone more upset than they were already. But now he just wanted everyone to know. How wonderful she'd been. How she'd been kind and understanding and never once looked down on him. How she would have been such a good mother. How truly sorry he was.

But he couldn't say any of it. He just stood in front of the microphone and stammered.

"Nyota was…" he said, but then there was a crushing feeling in his lungs.

"I thought Nyota was .." he tried again, but he couldn't speak, no matter how deeply the grief boiled within him. He rushed off the stage.

Kirk was waiting.

"It's okay," he said, putting his arm across his shoulder. Spock buried his face in his hands, and tried to avoid howling. He was already ashamed of such an emotional outburst. He sat next to Kirk, trying to get a hold of himself until the ceremony ended, and people started filtering out.

"Are you ready to leave?" Kirk asked.

Spock scanned the crowd for Nyota's sister, but she was talking to a mourner, her arms empty.

"I need to find Ma'Resh," he said, "I will meet you on the ship."

Spock looked around, but he couldn't see her. He didn't see anyone carrying a baby anywhere.

"Excuse me, do you know where Ma'Resh is?" Spock asked Naema after a minute.

"One minute," she said to the mourner, as if she thought it was a rude interruption.

"My mother has taken her home," the Naema stated, "She was fussing."

"Where does she live?" Spock asked, thinking that a long walk might be good to calm down before facing the ship.

Naema gave him a withering look.

"You can't be thinking of raising her on your own?" she asked.

"My father will help," Spock answered, inventing wildly and unconvincingly, "He has been thinking of spending more time at the embassy in San Francisco."

She looked at him sceptically.

"She is mostly human, don't you think she should be around her human relatives?" she echoed back his fears.

Spock stammered.

"I will take her back to the ship and think about it," he said eventually.

Naema made a face.

"Don't you think all the back and forth will confuse her? How about you think about it and come back if you decide to raise her?" she asked with an air of finality, before turning back to the mourner.

Spock slumped away, unsure if he wanted to fight with her anymore.

It wasn't as if they were bad people. When she was pregnant, Nyota had given a lot of thought to sending the baby to live with them. It was a big family with her parents and her sister and her sister's husband and her three nephews all living in one house. She'd had fond memories. It might even have been what Nyota would have wanted.

He hesitated at the gates, but then decided that Naema was right, he could always come back if he wanted.

"They can't do that, you have rights!" Kirk spat as soon as Spock told him what had happened. He shrugged his shoulders weakly. He wasn't sure what he wanted.

And what did he have to give her? He might not even be able to tell her that he loved her. And it would always be just the two of them.

"It is for the best," he told Kirk, shutting down his protest.


End file.
